


après

by natsubaki



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Honeymoon, M/M, Marriage, Post-Canon, True Love, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsubaki/pseuds/natsubaki
Summary: At the end of all things, there is a beginning.





	après

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written! Originally written in fall 2015 as part of what was to be an anthology done with Twitter friends. Sadly, the zine never came to fruition, so I'm now posting this here. Our theme was fashion.

He had worn diamonds the first time they met.

Kaneki remembers the image well: a tall figure framed against the dying sun streaming through Anteiku’s open door, diamonds in multicolor patterned on a long-sleeved sweater. Sharp little conjoined tips, like the point of a sword. He’d never seen anyone quite like the Gourmet in his life.

Tsukiyama had worn diamonds the second time they met for the first time, although it really hadn’t been their “first” meeting. But Kaneki doesn’t consider a few chance seconds as a true encounter (Tsukiyama had worn flowers then, like a greeting), and so he considers their second-second meeting—when Tsukiyama had approached him in the park in spring—their second “first.”

Diamond pants, like the matching half to the first’s sweater. Looking back on it now, Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama were trying to tell him something.

The day had been long; night had finally arrived.

Kaneki can feel exhaustion start to settle in his bones, but he pushes it aside. There is a current running through him, keeping him standing on his feet, his eyes open and blinking. The hand in his own is warm, the band of metal encircling one finger smooth and equally as warm. They move in tandem, up the long staircase, Kaneki’s other hand sliding along the wooden bannister. Below them, Kaneki can hear footfalls and careful stacking of china, light laughter growing fainter with each upward step.

Before them lies an ending and a beginning. Next to him, Tsukiyama halts a few paces from the door. He is silent but gives a small smile. Kaneki feels his feet take leave from under him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he quirks an eyebrow at Tsukiyama but leans into the hold. The hands cradling the bend of his knees and between his shoulder blades shift.

Tsukiyama takes a long stride into their bedroom. “Part of the tradition, _mon chéri_ ,”

“But we’re already inside,” Kaneki reasons as his feet return to the floor.

“Must you always foil my excuses,” Tsukiyama chuckles. “Think of it as ‘something old.’” He takes Kaneki’s left hand in both of his and caresses along the top of Kaneki’s knuckles, lifting them to his lips. “And this is ‘something new,’” he murmurs, rubbing the ring on Kaneki’s finger. The small diamond embedded in its center flickers gently in the dim light.

Kaneki covers Tsukiyama’s hand with his own. “Something new for you, as well… Something new for the both of us...Shuu.” His heart skips at the name as it leaves his mouth, skips again at the faint red that colors Tsukiyama’s cheeks.

“Ah, _oui_.”

“We’re both ‘Tsukiyama’ now, so it’d be strange to keep using family names.” He looks up at Tsukiyama. “ _You’re_ my family, now. ‘Tsukiyama Ken,’” he says, trying out his new identity, feeling the way the pairing sounds and rolls off his tongue. He smiles a bit wistfully. “It’ll take a little getting used to.”

Tsukiyama closes the gap between them, folding his arms around Kaneki and pulling him in close.

Kaneki falls into his hold and breathes in. It smells like home.

“We have all the time in the world.”

It’s just one moment of holding each other, of feeling the bodily presence: a moment to themselves,  _for_ themselves, without the watchful eyes and words of others, no matter how well-intentioned.

This is it. For the rest of their lives. Kaneki couldn’t imagine another.

The moment passes. They stand before each other, and Kaneki can feel his exhaustion shift into something else, the current within still keeping him upright now yawning and stretching through his veins. Kaneki tilts his head, grasps onto the crisp lapels of Tsukiyama’s jacket, and gently presses his lips against Tsukiyama’s. Tsukiyama closes his eyes. The kiss lingers.

He relaxes his hold as they break apart, carefully smoothing out the creases in the fabric. Kaneki smiles. “This reminds me of our first ‘date,’ you know. We wore something similar back then.”

To his surprise, Tsukiyama’s expression sours, but Kaneki laughs it off before Tsukiyama has a chance to object. “You’ve changed since then. I wouldn’t have married you if you hadn’t.”

“I-” Tsukiyama begins, but he closes his mouth and averts his eyes.

Kaneki feels a strange surge of happiness bloom within his chest. He’s the luckiest person alive. He reaches out, cups his husband’s face within the palms of his hands. Turns Tsukiyama’s gaze directly onto him. “‘I love you for all that you are, all that you were, and all that you will be,’” he recites. “Or have you already forgotten?”

“How could I?” Tsukiyama breathes. It’s his turn to lean in.

The kisses aren’t even new—they’ve done so thousands of times; this isn’t even their first as spouses. But the _idea_ is still new: having a partner, a husband, someone who would always be by Kaneki’s side. Kaneki cherishes each new feeling and commits it to memory. These are things he will never forget, even if his memories were stolen a second time.

The jacket is the first to go. Kaneki pushes it off Tsukiyama’s shoulders, boutonnière and all, admiring the rivulets of muscle underneath. Trailing fingertips down the buttons of Tsukiyama’s shirt, Kaneki unfastens the silk cummerbund from around Tsukiyama’s thin waist: a deep burgundy that nearly matches the shade of his eyes. The red that pools against the white on the floor looks like an arc of blood upon snow. The cufflinks are next to join: pearl squares that disappear within the folds of fabric.

It feels like he’s unwrapping a gift. Kaneki presses kisses to each bit of revealed skin: down the line of Tsukiyama’s collarbones, at the base of the sternum, at the apple of his throat. He’s careful with the clothing, taking his time, divesting each piece with reverence. Undressing each other is also something not new, but the luxury of leisure is still foreign.

The bed is huge. It’s soft. It’s something old and new.

Tsukiyama kneels above him, over him, a familiar sight. The blue of Tsukiyama’s hair is different from the color of his memory. Something old turned new.

His life feels borrowed, although it is his own. Kaneki is not the same as he was. But he is still here, still alive, and that’s enough.

The heart that beats inside him is something old, something true, something that still sheltered within it the love for this person, even after his memories were lost.

_Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue._

He is complete.

Kaneki winds the thin strip of Tsukiyama’s bow tie around his fingers and uses it to pull Tsukiyama down, meeting his lips with his own. The tie slips easily from around Tsukiyama’s neck. This time, the diamonds are a subtle monochrome.

“Turn off the lights.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. Yeaaahhh. I know. Recent canon events totally killed this fic. But I like to live in fantasy lollll.
> 
> Come be salty with me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/kaguneesan)! Or [Tumblr](http://kanekuinke.tumblr.com), lol, although I haven't been there much these days. Kudos & comments feed my sad little heart ( ˃̣̣̥ω˂̣̣̥ )


End file.
